Shadows
by randomrandom
Summary: Inspired by a Catullus poem. The Doctor's thoughts and memories of Rose, and vice versa. WIP.
1. The Doctor

_Godlike the man _

_Who sits at her side,_

_Who watches and _

_Catches the laughter_

_Which softly tears me to tatters._

_Nothing is left of me, _

_Each time I see her._

_Catullus._

They didn't hold hands any more. She would hold Jack's hand now, when they travelled with him, or Mickey's when they made their visits to Earth, to check on her mum or to save the world; usually both.

And every time he saw it, her hand just fitting in to someone else's like it was the most natural thing in the world, he had to turn away. Wanted to kill whoever it was.

She belonged to him, didn't they know? She had done since that night, God knows how long ago, months or weeks or years, that night when they'd both fallen apart inside each other, crying and clinging and claiming, again and again.

She'd nearly died that night, and he'd nearly died with her, because what was left of life for him without her? And when she was safe, and home with him, he'd poured it all into loving her, all the terror and passion and guilt and love that had built up inside him, made the stars fall out of the sky for her.

But the argument the next day was fixed into his mind as vividly as the night that had preceded it. She'd been scared, afraid that things would change too much, that they'd lose their friendship, and maybe she should go home for a few days. And he'd lost control.

And it made him ache to think of what they'd said to one another, viciously using their intimate knowledge of each other as weapons. She'd been with Jack within a fortnight, and in time they had gone back to a form of normality, saving the world together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She acted as though it had never happened, as if she'd forgotten. Was he so insignificant? The memory of her touch haunted him, her kisses burned into his skin.

No, they didn't hold hands any more. But he held her. And she would know it, in her heart of hearts, and one day she'd realise, and she'd come back and let him live again.


	2. Rose

_When passion's trance is overpast,_

_If tenderness and truth could last,_

_Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep_

_Some mortal slumber, dark and deep,_

_I should not weep, I should not weep!_

_ - Shelley._

Neither of them hears her cry at night. He lies, stuck somewhere between waking and sleeping, dreaming of her, trapped in his own darkness.

And Jack, by her side, deep in a contented sleep, would never think to listen for it. He doesn't feel the sobs that tear through her body, because he's too wrapped up in his own sweet dreams. He doesn't know that she cries because the man in her bed is not the man in her soul.

He is not the man who continues to haunt her dreams every time she manages to sleep; whose kisses still whisper over her skin whenever she closes her eyes. He is not the man who is in her heart, in her blood.

He doesn't know that it's all she can do to keep from thinking of _him _when they move together; doesn't know that every smile she gives him is only a tiny echo of the ones she keeps for her Doctor, hidden away.

Every night it's the same. Every night, while she waits for sleep to take her, she feels his hands and mouth searching her, sees the hungry, desperate love in his eyes; the look that told her he could never hold her close enough. And every night she hears their cruel words, remembering how they tore each other apart, just a few short hours later...

She knows that she was scared, of his strength and her weakness; that she didn't trust herself with him. She remembers how terrified she was that their lack of control when it came to each other would lead to something terrible. She knows that she's safer with Jack, because he doesn't really know her.

But she doesn't understand how he'd said what he said to her; how she'd been able to hurt him the way she did. How she'd been able to walk away, and leave it all as a memory that they hadn't spoken of since. She doesn't understand how he can carry on working by her side as if everything is normal, while she dies a little each time she sees him.

Because she knows that, whether he cares or not, he has a hold over her that no one would ever be able to break though. He'll be in her heart forever.

"_I should be stronger than weeping alone; you should be weaker than sending me home…don't keep me from crying to sleep."_

* * *

There may be a 'resolving' chapter up sometime next week... depending how things go. Quote at the end is from Lisa Hannigan's words to 'Silent Night,' from the Damien Rice album.


End file.
